


Playground Games

by choicescarfsylveon



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Background Klaine., Bullying, But Poor Blaine Doesn't Last, First Love, Homophobic Slurs, I love this ship, Infidelity, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choicescarfsylveon/pseuds/choicescarfsylveon
Summary: Kurt and Sebastian, childhood friends, surely are destined to form the bond of a lifetime, but it takes a couple rough turns at the start. Despite this, there is always love.





	Playground Games

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually a re-write of a K/S story I did in 2012 called "He Is Love," that I've been slowly hammering at since this June. Glad to finally have it all written and up for reading, as it is one of my favorite AU's I've ever done. Enjoy <3 let me know what you thought.

 

 

 

 

 

Burt Hummel and Stephen Smythe were perhaps unlikely friends in 1990s Ohio, the former a blue-voting, blue-collar, honest mechanic and the latter a conservative, well-off, dicey divorce lawyer, but the bond between their two families was solid. Their only sons, Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe, would go on to form the bond of a lifetime, though it took a couple rough turns at the start. Despite this fact, they have always loved each other.

 

It’s an evening in November, 2018, when Sebastian realizes that he’s been in love with Kurt his whole life, and that’s why he’s such a bitch all the time. Sebastian holds his red cup full of Coke in the bay of his kitchen, watching as Kurt’s cousin Rachel’s friend Blaine Anderson relentlessly flirts with Kurt across the room. Sebastian is overtly jealous, watching Blaine take Kurt’s hand, admire his rings, and why won’t Sebastian just come out already? It’s not like anyone at school is convinced, the more he fails to turn off his Snapchat location when he’s out with a known gay guy from another school, but Sebastian’s dad is an alcoholic, the “fun” kind: it seemed fun when he was young, the party-dancer he became when fucked up, but the older he gets, the more he realizes that his dad is slowly letting things go, that there are a lot of broken parts of his childhood he’s been blocking out. This year, the mortgage hasn’t been paid; bills haven’t been paid for no reason other than Stephen Smythe loves staying up for four days straight, goes work-crazy-manic and destroys things in his path; Sebastian knows his mom started sleeping with someone else years ago to avoid the oncoming storm, they basically act like co-habitating strangers. This is what Sebastian’s learned to do, avoid the truth and act like nothing gets to you.

 

Some things do, though. Some things like Blaine’s not even that _good looking,_ Sebastian thinks, he’s short as fuck, and why’s he wearing a suit jacket, a full-on bow tie and black dress shoes to a house party? With no socks? Didn’t Rachel say he goes to Dalton in Westerville? Some rich preppy pretty boy (like Sebastian doesn’t wish he was one of these) shouldn’t be swooping in during this, their junior year, the year that Sebastian always thought that _if_ he and Kurt dated, this would be the start of the next two important years in their lives: where are we going to college? Where are we moving to? If you pick the dream house, I get to pick the campus. We’re staying together, no matter what.

 

While Blaine and Rachel talk up ahead, Sebastian takes the chance to finally grab Kurt’s ear; nudges him, grinning, says,

 

“So why’s this guy dressed like he’s going to the fucking opera, am I right?”

 

Kurt chuckles, playfully hits his arm, then says in his ear, low,

 

“I think he looks good.”

 

It takes two more months—of Kurt and Blaine going on coffee dates at the Lima Bean, of Sebastian _trying_ to be nice to Kurt’s new good friend but never really able to let the snark stay off his tongue when they’re all in a group—of Sebastian and Kurt continuing to stay close, though Kurt’s phone is off, often, when he’s with Blaine—before Kurt and Blaine are full-blown boyfriend and boyfriend, out and proud, all over Instagram. Sebastian knows he didn’t shoot his shot hard enough, he could’ve been honest, sat Kurt down on the old tire swing where they’ve spent hours some nights in Kurt’s front yard, and told him how he felt, straight up, no bullshit. That he wants more than friendship, wants to love Kurt for the rest of his life, wants to be gay and out and proud but he’s afraid his father will think it’s stupid, a phase, maybe even hate him for political reasons. He didn’t say any of it because Kurt should be free, free to choose what he wants and how he wants to spend his life without having to feel guilty for Sebastian’s insecurities. Sebastian knows the old adage: if you love something, let it go, if it’s meant to be, it will return.

 

He just doesn’t know if Kurt knows how much he loves him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

During Kindergarten, all throughout their elementary school days, Kurt and Sebastian were so joined at the hip, people thought they were brothers. They could talk and play games together for hours at their sleepovers, always staying up late beneath the glow-in-the-dark stars on Sebastian's bedroom ceiling. Every morning and afternoon, they walked the short distance to school together, stopping on their way at the park in between to climb the giant, metal rocket ship slide. Sitting at the top of it, under the big red nose, they imagined themselves adventurers through space, promising that they would be best friends forever.

 

In school, Sebastian was tall, popular because he always had the coolest stuff, but Kurt was a tiny little thing, dressed however he wanted and that way was “like a girl,” to other kids, once they got old enough to be able to tell the difference. Sebastian was always pushing boys at school who tried to pick on Kurt into sandboxes, giving them rubber-burns on the jungle gyms and bruises near the swing set. Sebastian was sent to the principal for picking fights at recess on a monthly basis, and his parents grounded him in various ways that occasionally involved a little slapping around from his dad, or both of them, or they would take his phone for two days, which, God forbid, but Sebastian never seemed to understand what he'd done wrong. His rationale was always, "But Mom, they were messing with Kurt."

 

When Stephen and Robin Smythe saw the way that Seb would march determinedly around the house, that same day, rummaging through the cupboards for handfuls of band-aids and informing them that he was going to the Hummel’s house to deliver them, they couldn't ever _really_ be that angry with him.

 

The first year of middle school marked a subtle change in Kurt and Sebastian's friendship. Kurt became more aware that he wasn’t a “normal guy” as he recalled getting none of those stupid little paper Valentines from any of the girls in school his box, but Sebastian getting ten of them, and trying hard not to compare himself. More and more, Kurt and Sebastian were acquiring different friends, or Sebastian was quickly gaining guy friends from sports while Kurt was swiftly losing them, only talking to girls. They still saw each other around school, in the halls, but something unspoken happened between them when it became clear that their groups of friends were at odds, on the basis of gender. Sebastian didn’t get how the boys that he hung out with simultaneously talked crap about girls and women but also wanted to spend time pressed up against them, while also going through great lengths to repel girls with their dirty jokes and hygiene. Kurt wanted to spend time alone with Sebastian, but he was also happy that his friend was happy being part of a group or a team.

 

When Kurt wasn't busy with homework or piano, and Sebastian wasn't busy with sports or piano, they hung out in the early evenings, at either house; Sebastian with his lanky legs crossed as he smacked at an Xbox controller and Kurt filing his nails, reminding Sebastian that the _original_ BioShock was better. They spent less time talking about honest things than usual, and Kurt felt a little lonely sometimes, but he'd never say so. If Sebastian felt like he missed the days when things weren’t sort of awkward like this, he'd never say it either.

 

In seventh grade, Sebastian was acquired into a group of popular friendship by Hunter Clarington, a wealthy lacrosse and football player who transferred from another district. Hunter was suave, good-looking, and a bully, liked to keep a group of five or six fellow jock sycophants around him at all times and he made you _feel_ cool to be with because he was always just giving you things, his dad buying all the latest electronics and telling his son to just give them away.

 

The older Sebastian gets, the more he realizes that things like that were a power grab, a loyalty buy. Sebastian didn't feel like he was being himself, young enough to feel bad every time he joined or was a bystander to Hunter’s misogynist bullying others, but he pretended to like it, anyway. If it meant that no one was ever going to bother him, meant that he'd have cool male friends and be "respected," then he'd just go along with it. His dad always said that a man’s reputation was everything.

 

But Sebastian did miss when nobody cared about who was gay and who was straight.

 

Kurt had notably eschewed Sebastian’s company ever since Hunter’s emergence in his life. They still saw each other after school when their parents got together for dinner on weekends, but things changed; they barely talked, barely had anything to say that wasn’t about Kurt’s worries he expressed. Kurt was convinced that Hunter was harassing or stalking him, leaving notes in his locker or on the door of his dad’s shop. Sebastian said that anyone could be doing it, that he’d try to find out and set things straight, but Hunter and the boys teased him ruthlessly for caring, accused him of, in Hunter’s words, “supporting faggotry.” Sebastian couldn’t ask enough people who was doing it on the low, in classes over shoulders, trying to find a name; most people simply didn’t care that Kurt was getting weird calls, or simply had no information.

 

One Monday afternoon, Sebastian was at his locker, down the hall some yards from Kurt’s. Hunter and the boys were nearby, waiting for him to finish getting his books for sixth period. Kurt was, meanwhile, minding his own business clouding himself in aerosol, oblivious to the things that were being said about his hourly hairspray checks by students off to his right. Though, he was frowning a little, too, and it did look like he was about to cry. But he often wore an expression like that when he was at school.

 

Then, all of a sudden, Hunter was saying, "I will, I will, let's go, let's go," and the rest of the boys were pulling up their pants and shuffling behind their "leader," approaching Kurt at their locker, checking over their shoulders for any teachers in the hallway.

 

Sebastian stomach twisted, watching them surround Kurt’s locker in a C-position, crossing their arms, they'd never just swarmed Kurt like that before, before, it was only words, like everyone else, it was just—

 

As Sebastian's nervous body rolled forward for him, he came up to the rim of the semi-circle and found Hunter pressing right up close to Kurt's face, felt like he couldn't function. His anger flared up suddenly, sweaty, his heart in his throat, and he couldn't believe, couldn’t process enough to stop what was happening so rapidly—

 

"I don't have lunch money, my dad packed a sandwich," Kurt recited, as Hunter began to put his hand around the ring of Kurt's collar.

 

"Listen, Hummel," Hunter said, grinning, "I just wanted to do you a courtesy and let you know that we're getting tired of you walking around here looking like a drag queen all the time."

 

"Yup,” the other guys chimed in.

 

"I mean, what is this?" Hunter asked Kurt, hooking his finger through the chain of Kurt's necklace, which had the head of an elephant as a pendant, and Kurt winced and shut his eyes as Hunter yanked it off, breaking the chain and tossing it onto the tile. The necklace shattered.

 

Other people in the hallway were starting to look at what was going on, murmuring, not wanting to step or intervene or stop anything from happening.

 

"What do you want?" Kurt spat.

 

"You're gonna come with us, alright?" Hunter said, turning to look at each of the boys again as they checked for any teachers, then nodded their heads in agreement.

 

Sebastian panicked. “Hunter, what the—“

 

"We're gonna go out back, teach you a lesson about looking like such a freak."

 

And so there they were.

 

Sebastian had followed them, yelling “hey, hey!” as they moved quickly through the crowded halls, drawing attention to the five of them with Kurt’s shirt collar clenched in Hunter’s knuckles walking out of school. A small crowd of brownnosers, mostly freshmen and sophomores, slowly followed the movement out to the dumpster’s on the east end of school where teachers were no where to be found for pockets of time, and lunch time fights could and did often transpire.

 

Sebastian ran up to them just as Hunter and two of his friends picked Kurt up and swung him into the side of the dumpster; taking their turn and kicking Kurt in the gut and face as he writhed on the floor. Sebastian was so shocked at the growing scene of violence, like it was a horror movie or one of those car accidents on the freeway that you just can't stop looking at.

 

Until it snapped in him, that this was Kurt, that he vowed to never let anyone hurt him, so then he was barreling into Hunter, hard, pulling him off Kurt as the other boys grabbed Sebastian’s shirt, tearing at it apart.

 

Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, and Coach Beiste, the football coach, were soon running into the scene of action, Beiste’s voice ferocious as she told Hunter’s group—Sebastian included—to see the principal now, and Mr. Schue knelt by Kurt, trying to get him stable.

 

Sebastian looked back at Kurt, black eyed and with a little blood coming from his mouth, miserably as Coach Bieste pushed them all towards the office.

 

Later on that night, Burt reminded Kurt that it was Monday Night Football night at the Smythe's, and Kurt winced at the thought. Burt had been in a grim mood ever since he’d gotten the phone call, and he'd gone into a rage at the sight of his son's injuries, calling the administration and demanding that something finally be done about bullying at their school. Hunter was suspended for two weeks, though not expelled. Currently, Burt was telling Kurt that going over to Sebastian's house tonight might make him feel better.

 

To which Kurt just nodded his head, weak, trying not to cry as he remembered Sebastian being there, _standing there,_ watching them throw his necklace to the floor.

 

Kurt, Burt and Elizabeth walked into the Smythe's open three-car garage doors as Stephen, Robin and Sebastian came out to greet them, as was their tradition.

 

“Oh, Kurt,” said Robin Smythe, _tsk_ -ing and gently touching his face. “We heard what happened.”

 

Kurt smiled faintly, shaking his head, and Sebastian felt himself go cold. Kurt must not’ve told his parents about the whole thing. About the Sebastian of it. “It’s not that bad.”

 

"Like hell it’s ‘not that bad,’" Burt said in protest. "These kids were pickin' on Kurt for months, calling our house, calling my job. Beat him bloody, and there were no teachers in sight."

 

“Luckily our kid here saw what happened, tried to pull ‘em off.” Stephen drank the rest of the wine in his glass. “Do they not have, like, some kind of bully patrol or security at that school?” He looked to Sebastian.

 

Sebastian said, "Uh, I don't know," and Kurt shook his head again.

 

"I called that principal and that school board and gave ‘em a piece of my mind," Burt said.

 

“And if you don’t stop rehashing every detail,” Elizabeth said, hand on her husband’s chest, “your blood pressure’s gonna head through this roof.”

 

"We're gonna head inside, alright, boys?" Stephen told Kurt and Sebastian over his shoulder, which meant that he needed a refill on liquor, and conversations too adult were going to be occurring within, as the three adults walked towards the main door to the house.

 

Sebastian and Kurt looked at each other in silence ‘til the door shut.

 

“Tire swing.” Kurt was not in the mood for pleasantries. “Now.”

 

They walked out of the garage doors and over the lawn to Kurt’s yard.

 

"Why did you let Hunter and his friends beat me up?"

 

The question burned between them, tense moments, as the tire under them gently swayed in the night breeze.

 

“I didn’t—“ Sebastian’s voice broke. “I didn’t know what they were gonna do, and then I was. Shocked. I choked. I’m so sorry.”

 

Kurt didn’t respond, staring up at the sky.

 

“Why didn’t you tell your dad it was me?” Sebastian said.

 

Kurt continued looking away, ignoring this, and god, Kurt's eyes were so dark, the purpling bruising between them dramatic around his eyelids. Sebastian felt so guilty when he looked at him.

 

"Look," Kurt said, then.

 

He rolled up his shirt sleeve to his elbow, showing Sebastian a long, gnarled trail of dark bruises that stretched across the whole of his arm, dried over with flaky, scabbing skin.

 

"Fuck,” Sebastian winced.

 

"From when they threw me," Kurt explained. "My dad saw it, and my eye, and I swore he was going to get the hunting rifle off from the wall. Luckily, Mother has it locked. Hid the key."

 

Sebastian couldn’t let Hunter get away with this. He should’ve been the one they beat, he was so stupid and spineless before, but now—

 

“Kurt, I—“

 

"It's because everyone thinks I'm gay, isn't it?"

 

Sebastian startled at this, his heart pounding.

 

“No. I mean. Maybe...are you?”

 

Kurt’s eyes welled up.

 

He got down from the swing carefully, then, wincing in pain, eschewing Sebastian’s offer for help to get him down.

 

“Tell my parents I went to rest,” Kurt said. “I’m tired.”

 

The seventh grade spring formal dance was months later, complete with a disco ball, a punch bowl, and girls and boys on either halves of the room in the musty, smelly gym. Kurt was sitting with some of the girls from his history class in a powder blue shirt and dress pants, picking at his hangnails and listening to them go on about what boys they wanted to dance with.

 

Eventually, the DJ played a crowd-favorite and that got some of the girls and most of boys at least on the dance floor, though still not mingling. The room was busier, though, distracted, and that was when Kurt noticed Sebastian was coming to his table, alone, dressed in a baggy white button up shirt and tan pants.

 

“Hey,” Sebastian said.

 

“Hello.” Kurt glanced down at the cup of punch in his hands, swirling it around. “Having fun?”

 

Sebastian shrugged.

 

“Neither am I,” Kurt said. "And it seriously smells like something died in here.” He looked around disdainfully. “Has nobody in this town heard of deodorant?”

 

Sebastian looked around too, chuckled.

 

“Aren't you going to get in trouble with your 'cool' friends for talking to gay-Hummel?” Kurt asked, then, bitterly.

 

Sebastian tensed up, looked back around, and nobody was really watching them, no; Hunter and those guys were rough-housing on the floor, pushing each other around in a mosh pit; Sebastian had stopped speaking to them after the incident, and was only not retaliating physically because he had a concept of a college, now, didn’t want a trip to juvie for fucking Hunter up on his record. He had new friends from student government anyway, now.

 

A blush began to spread at the tips of Sebastian’s ears and his neck when he looked back down into Kurt's big eyes.

 

“I’m not with Hunter and those guys anymore.”

 

“Good for you.”

 

The song changed again, to “It's Getting Hot In Here” by Nelly, and Sebastian really did think it was getting hot in there, what with the way his palms and forehead were all so sweaty all of a sudden. Kurt drank from his punch to try and ease the silence, and then Sebastian was saying something.

 

“When Hunter and—everyone—when they call you all those names, it's just rumors and—stupid stuff, you know.” Sebastian coughed. “I just wanted to let you know that I've been telling people, that the rumors aren't true.”

 

Kurt bit his lip.

 

“Okay. Except...they are.”

 

“...Oh.”

 

Sebastian’s mind flooded, then, with thoughts about what that meant. Kurt being gay all along. Those thoughts Sebastian had, too, when he saw photos of men in magazines; those thoughts he had about Kurt’s face, the guilty ones; was Kurt saying he had dark times like those, too?

 

Sebastian felt someone touch his shoulder, Vanessa, the student body president, asking him to dance.

 

“Uh, yeah...sure. No problem.”

 

Kurt watched them go, talking Sebastian’s “oh” as his answer.

 

After the dance, Seb and Kurt wouldn't talk for the rest of the school year, or the next. At the start of their eighth grade year, Mr. Smythe got a significant pay raise at a job with another firm, so Mr. and Mrs. Smythe were constantly having classy get-togethers with Mr. Smythe's new associates, and _their_ kids, in lieu of small gatherings with Burt, Elizabeth, and Kurt. Meanwhile, a heated recent heated Presidential election separated Burt and Stephen, and Robin and Elizabeth, in a way that would never really be fixed, as Stephen became more and more politically conservative. Burt was having to work even harder at his tire shop since the economy plummeted in 2007, still staggered to rise again, trying to keep his employees on their feet. They were simply too at odds, their family values too differed.

 

Gradually, Kurt and Sebastian almost never saw each other outside of school, passing each other with nothing but an awkward half-smile from Sebastian in school halls, sometimes. That is, until a couple days after eighth grade graduation, when Sebastian was told that he got into Bridgewood Academy, the private high school where most kids with money in the district went instead of the public. His parents said he could choose which school he wanted to attend, think about it over the next few days. Many days were spent by him trying to imagine some obvious, happy future, but it occurred that that future didn’t seem right without Kurt in it.

 

Even just looking at Kurt, from afar, knowing he still exists in the world, wondering how or what to say to make things right again someday. It was all nostalgia, broken comfort of his childhood that he can't give up.

 

Sebastian was sitting with his mom in their remodeled kitchen, and Robin had her phone out to make a list of guests for Sebastian's graduation party. At one point, Mrs. Smythe noticed that her son seemed bored with the prospect of a grand-scale party in his honor, so she asked him, out of curiosity.

 

"Did you wanna invite Kurt to your party?"

 

Sebastian looked up from the marble counter at, frowning a little.

 

“Dunno,” he said. “Pretty sure hates me now or something.”

 

"I know you two don't talk much anymore," Robin said, “but you were a much nicer kid when he was around, if I’m being honest. I can tell you don’t like the Richards or Greysons very much. You also can’t tell Mrs. Greyson that her wig looks like a hairball, anymore, no matter how true that might be. Anyway, if you go to this new school, if Burt’s shop closes, as it’s looking like, you may not see Kurt for a long time. And I know your father and I aren’t really speaking to the Hummels, for our reasons. But you kids don’t let our crap be your crap. Alright?”

 

Sebastian was surprised at her sudden expression of this. The thought of Kurt at his party made him uncomfortable, too.

 

"Nobody likes Kurt," Sebastian blurted. "I mean," he corrected himself, trying to ignore the anger he'd still felt deep in his heart when Kurt walked across the stage to get his diploma, and most of the other graduates failed to clap for him, "if he shows up, my ‘friends’ will just ignore him, or worse, say rude shit behind his back.”

 

“Language.”

 

"Sorry. Anyway, I don't want to do that to him."

 

_He doesn't deserve it. Or me._

 

"Well, why don't you have a separate get together,” his mom suggested. “With just him. Celebrate your graduation.”

 

Sebastian felt his face growing hot.

 

"No. That's awkward.”

 

"Only awkward if you make it awkward. We were planning on inviting Burt and Elizabeth here in the next couple weeks. Even if they think we’re fascists for the way we vote, that doesn’t mean we can’t have dinner together. See if he’ll come, too.”

 

Two weeks later, post Kurt-less graduation party, it took Sebastian all the fourteen-year-old courage he could muster to cross the yard and knock on the Hummel’s door for the first time in over a year, shaky hands in his pockets and sweat beading on his forehead as he waited for it to open.

 

When Burt opened up and found Sebastian Smythe on the doorstep, nervous and antsy like a boy on his first date, he looked amused.

 

"Sebastian," was all he said.

 

Burt always did look more intimidating than usual in his mechanic's uniform. Sebastian realized then that Burt may not like him so much, anymore, ever since he stopped being friends with Kurt.

 

"Hi," Sebastian said, quick. "Is—is Kurt home?"

 

Kurt, who was on the couch in the living room and could hear the exchange, felt a shiver run down his spine.

 

"Uh, yeah," Burt said. "Kurt!"

 

Kurt sighed.

 

Kurt got up from the couch, came to the open door. Sebastian stared at Kurt for a moment without saying anything.

 

“Hello,” Kurt said.

 

“Hi. Um.” Sebastian faltered, light headed. “I know this is kind of sudden, but—I was wondering if you wanted to—come to my house."

 

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

 

"When?"

 

"Whenever," Sebastian replied, nervous. "Tomorrow, next week, or—right now, if you're not busy."

 

Kurt looked thoughtful for a moment.

 

"I suppose I'm not doing anything too important at the moment," he said. "I was going to give myself a mud mask in a few minutes, but if me going to your house is such a dire need for you, that can wait."

 

"Okay." Sebastian cleared his throat. "Uh. Let's go."

 

They walked across their conjoined lawns and Sebastian clicked the garage doors open with his opener; the garage was becoming increasingly full with furniture and things that were going to be traded and sold. Sebastian left the garage open, stopping before entering it, and then looked at Kurt.

 

“Tire swing?" he said.

 

Kurt's eyes went a little wide.

 

“Okay.”

 

Their legs were becoming much too long to try and stay separated on this thing; still, Sebastian tried not to let their knees knock, tried not to stare too much at Kurt’s legs, wrapped snug in his jeans.

 

"Are you—excited about high school?" Sebastian said.

 

Kurt hesitated, stared at Sebastian consideringly.

 

"Sure," Kurt answered then, brief. "Are you?"

 

Sebastian shrugged.

 

"Dunno. Have to decide if I wanna stay at McKinley or go over to Bridgewood.”

 

"I know," Kurt said.

 

"You do?"

 

"My mom told me. Saw on your mom's Facebook."

 

"Oh.”

 

There was an awkward silence, then, in which the two boys acknowledged each other physically. Sebastian was a god damn distraction, Kurt thought, when had he gotten so tall, so handsome, so buff, and so armorous? Somehow this was the same little shithead he used to see muddy and running around in his underwear through sprinklers when they were eight, and Sebastian's voice had broken a year ago, and Kurt thought it was, well. Hot. His friend was aging like fine wine, as Kurt always heard his mother say. Even if Kurt was still angry, he could admit that fact.

 

And Sebastian felt the similarly about Kurt, though much less resentfully. Kurt was growing, too, had turned into this slender thing with thick hair, bright eyes, pretty lips, a jawline that could kill. He still had a little bit of acne, but Sebastian kind of couldn't take his eyes off Kurt, lately, when he could stare. He was fascinated by how Kurt had changed, and grown to be so striking. Kurt was still his Kurt, adorable-delicate as always, but taller and polished, and so much bright, red, natural blush taking over his otherwise pale skin at every moment of tension.

 

"You’re going to Bridgewood,” Kurt said, then, blushing so. “You can say it.”

 

“I don’t wanna go to Bridgewood.”

 

_I wanna be with you._

 

"Won't all your friends be there?" Kurt said. "Hunter, and—Vanessa, all your friends from your graduation party?”

 

"Yeah,” Sebastian said, “but I hate them. Fake, rich, Instagram obsessed. I don’t care if I never have to see them again. They get really fucking annoying."

 

Kurt looked surprised, at that, but didn't say anything.

 

"Kurt," Sebastian said.

 

Kurt looked over again, and Sebastian was so nervous about the way his heart leaped that he had to fight the urge to jump off of the swing.

 

"I just—wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," Sebastian said, his voice shaking.

 

Kurt tried not to let his cold expression break.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"We used to be—you know how it was. I used to see you every day, and sit here with you, and it didn't matter what other people said, or about—whether people think you’re gay and I’m straight."

 

Kurt shifted his position slightly.

 

"And I should've never been friends with Hunter instead of you," Sebastian continued. "I should’ve never doubted what you said. I'm not even going to see any of them ever again, and—you were my friend first. My best friend, before. My person. I don’t want things to be weird anymore. I miss you."

 

Kurt started to look like he couldn’t hold back, any more.

 

"I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner, when your dad comes, next week," Sebastian said, watching Kurt carefully, hoping what he was saying was okay. "And—I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out again, during the summer. Just you and me. Like before."

 

Tears began to roll down Kurt’s cheeks. He wiped them quickly, embarrassed.

 

“I still really care about you, Sebastian. A lot."

 

Sebastian felt chills all over his body, watching Kurt cry. This wasn't supposed to be happening, Sebastian should’ve never let his stupid ideas of manhood come between them, to the point that Kurt was so hurt. He was supposed to be protecting Kurt, should’ve fixed this all before he lost Kurt's companionship. Possibly for good.

 

"But we're not friends anymore," Kurt said shakily. "We haven't really been since fifth grade."

 

Sebastian felt his mouth going dry.

 

"I still want us to be friends—“

 

"I feel like that's not true. My mom and dad don't even feel like that's true. You know they told me that your parents never call anymore? Except this random invitation to dinner out of no where for the first time in over a year, not even on my mom’s birthday last month, not even when we found out the last of her mets were gone. My dad says that it's because you guys feel like you're so much better than us, ever since your dad got that rich, stuck up job."

 

"What the hell?" For some reason, that was sore. "That's not what we think, Kurt."

 

"But that's what it feels like," Kurt argued. "I feel like I care about you, but you don't care about me back. Because you never show it. And that. Really, really sucks."

 

Sebastian shook his head, as if to convince Kurt or himself that he was wrong.

 

"If you had been me, when we started middle school," Kurt went on. "I would've been there for you. I would've still hung out with you. Proudly. You didn't do that for me. And when I go to high school next year, I just want a fresh start. I just want to be myself, and out, without all of these people judging me and beating me up and making me feel like I'm worthless for who I am. And I know that you didn't ever kick me, or leave voicemails, or call me a fag to my face, but—you were a part of the bullying. By standing there and doing nothing, you were a part of making me feel awful and alone and like everyone hated me."

 

"I didn't mean to do that to you, Kurt," Sebastian pleaded. "I'm sorry—“

 

"But you did," Kurt finished. "You did do it, and maybe I just should forgive you for that, because I’ve known you forever, and I love you _so much_ , but I —I can't."

 

They sat in in silence for another long while, and Sebastian felt like Kurt was sand slipping between his fingers.

 

"I'm—I'm gonna go now," Kurt said soon, sniffling, climbing off the swing. "Maybe I'll come to eat dinner, with my dad next week. But I really don't think so."

 

Suffice to say, after that, Sebastian felt miserable. He had to put in his mind that even with his decision to stay at McKinley, he might just have to watch Kurt ignore him the next four years. He might have to come out to himself—he _is_ gay—and wonder if he and Kurt could’ve been together, one day.

 

Turned out, though, that Kurt did show up for dinner. Sat across from Sebastian, somber but smiling, and after the meal—at which Stephen and Burt apologized, too, promised to be better neighbors—Kurt took Sebastian out to the Smythe’s garage and just hugged him. They held each other for a long time.

 

 

 

 

 

Kurt and Blaine Anderson spent their senior year as a couple, despite Sebastian’s constant, playful annoyance at Kurt’s new affair. This April, they’re set to go to Kurt and Sebastian’s senior prom together. Dressed as “the most adorable gay couple on earth,” according to the fans of theirs on Blaine’s Instagram. Sebastian is going stag, planning on sticking with Elliott Gilbert, his only guy friend who’s also choosing to go dateless. Just an hour before the big event, however, Seb elects to stay home.

 

After prom, Kurt and Blaine are supposed to stay in a hotel room where the dance takes place. Blaine’s parents’ credit card paid for the whole soiree, a suite. Kurt knows losing his virginity on prom night with rose petals beneath them is a total cliché and all, but he feels like it’s the time, especially before college starts. Kurt and Blaine haven’t applied to the same schools, like Kurt and Seb has, and Kurt doesn’t know how distance will fare with Blaine if they don’t cross this emotional boundary soon.

 

Blaine, who bought the hotel room with no refund option, still changes his mind after the prom itself; drives Kurt home around midnight, quoting chivalry, wanting to wait, as his reasons.

 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, quiet, grace still in his voice, “I just feel like it’s not right yet. I feel like. I’m still waiting for the right person.”

 

“So, I’m not the right person?” Kurt says.

 

“I don’t know. You’re amazing, Kurt, you really are. I just. Need more time.”

 

When they pull up in front of Kurt’s house, in Blaine’s fancy black Mercedes, Kurt knows that this isn’t a surprise to him; as much as he’d loved the idea of getting to be with Blaine, as much as he’s fancied this romance perfection, it’s just that. Perfect surface. Blaine is a model boyfriend, _just_ the model. Kurt loves him, but he’s bored.

 

Blaine glances out of Kurt’s passenger window quizzically.

 

“Is that...Sebastian on your tire swing?”

 

Yes, there Sebastian is, in perhaps the dress shirt and slacks he would’ve worn to prom, had he gone, a thin bottle of scotch in his right hand as he swings. Kurt could laugh and shake his head at his best friend’s ridiculousness; and Kurt’s thought about it a lot, the fact that Sebastian doesn’t date anyone, ever, the fact that he’s always hanging around trying to find something sketch out about Blaine, something that will show Kurt he really isn’t so good. The fact that Sebastian is a beautiful boy, almost man, that Kurt has known and watched grow and stumble for seventeen years.

 

That Sebastian’s still the funniest, most exciting, and most enduring person Kurt gets to know.

 

Sebastian’s love has always been there, weakened, strong, flawed, for worse, for better. These years of mending past transgressions across a tire swing has brought them far.

 

“Goodnight, Blaine.”

 

Kurt walks up to Sebastian on the tire swing, feeling a light drizzle start to form above them.

 

“So,” Sebastian says, swinging himself side to side. “How was it?”

 

“Well, I’m home, aren’t I?” Kurt shrugs.

 

Sebastian offers Kurt the bottle, with a wry smile. Kurt takes a swig, making a face, then comes closer to the tire swing, his body burning. Seb takes the bottle back as Kurt fumbles his hands over the swing’s ropes, gently pushing and pulling, slight. Sebastian drinks once more, watching Kurt’s eyelashes flutter as he rather unabashedly stares at Sebastian’s thighs, flush creeping up his neck.

 

“It was fun,” Kurt admits then, sighing. “Everyone had a good night, even the teachers. Blaine was sweet. A perfect gentleman.”

 

“But that’s not what you want.” Sebastian says it like he always does, though he doesn’t know that this time, it’s about to mean something serious to Kurt.

 

Kurt stares at him, somber, and Sebastian doubts it all.

 

“...Right?” Sebastian says.

 

Kurt pulls Sebastian, and the swing, closer to his body.

 

“Tell me,” Kurt whispers, low, “what do I want?”

 

Sebastian swallows, and Kurt doesn’t let go; the flush has completely covered his friend’s face.

 

“How am I supposed to know that?” Sebastian says.

 

“You know.”

 

Sebastian unwraps Kurt’s hands from the tire’s strings so that he can climb off of it.

 

“Come on,” Sebastian says. “Let’s go.”

 

“Where?”

 

They walk to the old park they used to cross on their way to grade school, underneath the metal roof of their trusted rocket slide. Drizzle turns to rain plummeting down on the red nose as Sebastian and Kurt stand beneath it, fire between them.

 

“Why here?” Kurt says, breathless.

 

“So I can do this.”

 

Sebastian kisses Kurt, holding him close.

 

They run back to the laws of their houses, hand-in-hand, becoming drenched from the rain above them, run inside Sebastian’s house, upstairs, since his parents are gone, and drop themselves to Sebastian’s bed; kissing, knowing each other, intimately, finally crossing that last boundary towards the love they always knew they could have.

 

After, Kurt plays with the loose skin of Sebastian’s finger knuckles, chuckling softly.

 

“What took us so long?” he wonders.

 

“Beats me.”

 

Sebastian kisses Kurt’s forehead, again and again, smiling into it.

 

“But there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go, this time.”

 


End file.
